


Dancing On My Own

by rendawnie



Series: Pieces [9]
Category: Pentagon (Korea Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Clubbing, Dancing, Friendship, Getting Together, Humor, Kissing, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-09
Updated: 2017-07-09
Packaged: 2018-11-30 09:13:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11460537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rendawnie/pseuds/rendawnie
Summary: Hwitaek hasn’t felt like this in a very long time. (Set in the same universe asGet Lucky.)Soundtrack: "Dancing On My Own", Robyn





	Dancing On My Own

Hwitaek doesn’t notice he’s staring up into the DJ booth intently until he hears the sound of glass breaking, the champagne flute formerly in his hand dropping to the floor and shattering.

He doesn’t know why they got champagne flutes, anyway. They’re not much use in a rowdy bar.

Hwitaek groans and starts to lean down to clean up the mess he made, when a slender hand reaches down and hauls him up by his ear.

“The fuck?! The _fuck_ , Changgu, stop!” Hwitaek tries to yell over the music, but he’s ignored by the in-house announcer/hype man (previously the DJ, except he wasn’t very good at it and gave the reins over to Hyojong easily when it was suggested) and dragged all the way to the back office of Lucky’s by said ear, even over his very vocal protests.

When he gets there, everyone is waiting for him. Hyunggu and Yuto have changed from the standard go-go boy hot pants to their street clothes, Jinho is sitting on the couch with his arms crossed, looking like he _really_ doesn’t have time for whatever this is, Wooseok is texting, as ever, and even Shinwon, although he doesn’t work here anymore, has been called in for the occasion.

Whatever it is.

Changgu finally lets Hwitaek’s ear go, and Hwitaek is in the midst of contemplating all the ways he’s going to dock Changgu’s paycheck in the very near future for such blatant insubordination, when Jinho rises serenely from the couch, arms still crossed, and announces, “This is an intervention.”

Hwitaek wrinkles his nose in confusion. No one says anything else until Wooseok whispers quietly, “An inter- _friend-_ tion,” and Hyunggu groans and smacks him on the arm and Yuto says, “We told you not to, man”, and Hwitaek checks the clock on the wall and realizes it’s closing time and he really, _really_ needs to get out of this room and start shutting this place down if they don’t want to be here until daylight comes.

“An intervention for what? About what?” he questions, exasperated, trying to move things along.

“You,” Jinho replies, keeping his stare level and calm as it bores into Hwitaek’s skull. “You, and Hyojong, and how your crush on Hyojong is ruining everyone’s life.”

Hwitaek blushes beet red immediately without meaning to, and stammers over every single word he tries to make his response.

“Nononono. I don’t--I don’t have a...I don’t have a crush, Jinho, that’s...that’s insane...and anyway, if I, if I did, he’s with Shinwon and Hongseok, so, y’know...doesn’t...nothing matters, and…”

Shinwon interrupts Hwitaek’s swift descent into babbling hell mercifully. “First of all, Hyojong’s not _with_ us. We took him home one night, five months ago. That’s it. He’s not seeing anyone. Do you know _why_ he’s not seeing anyone, Hwitaek?” Shinwon asks.

Hwitaek bites his lip, feeling very uncomfortable standing in the middle of his circle of friends. Employees. Both. “Why?” he answers finally, since they’re all waiting.

“Because he likes _you,_ dipshit,” Wooseok replies. “Ask him out. Now. Right now. He’ll be in here in like five minutes, once he finishes closing down the DJ booth.”

Hwitaek thinks he might be having a panic attack. He’s _definitely_ feeling very attacked, in general.

“Yeah, I can’t do that,” he says, dropping down onto the couch next to Jinho. “I’ve never been able to do that. It’s just...not in my DNA.”

Belatedly, he realizes what Wooseok said, and reaches out to aim a half-hearted slap in his direction. “And that’s dipshit- _hyung_ , to you, child.”

Wooseok just chuckles.

Hyunggu arrives at Hwitaek’s feet, peering up and trying to see his eyes through the hands covering them, and then he gives up and starts talking anyway.

“Hyung. It’s been a really long time since you went on a date. Like...years. Like before most of us knew you. Since…” Hyunggu trails off, trying to think or remember anything that’s been said about Hwitaek’s stunningly bare love life.

“Since me,” Jinho clears his throat, filling in the blank. “You haven’t dated since _we_ broke up, Hui.”

Shinwon smirks. “And that was when?”

Hwitaek is already shaking his head when he sits back up, eyes pleading with Jinho. “You don’t. You don’t _have_ to answer that.”

“Six years ago. In high school.”

Hwitaek sighs. “You didn’t have to.”

“Yes I _did,_ Hui,” Jinho replies. “ _Something’s_ got to be done. You’re just wasting your prime dating years, and why? I know it’s not because you’re still hung up over me. We moved on from that ages ago.”

Hwitaek nods. “No, you’re right. It’s because...I don’t know, it’s because...when you avoid something for a while, and then you avoid it a little longer, because why not, it just becomes...less something you’re avoiding, than something you’ve just decided to do, somehow. I just decided not to date anyone, and then I kept not dating anyone. It just seemed...easier.”

Yuto looks at Hwitaek sympathetically. “But, is it, hyung? Is it really?”

Hwitaek frowns. “No. It’s kind of miserable, actually.”

Changgu smiles then, a big grin filled with the kind of positivity that Hwitaek mostly gave up on a long time ago. “But you don’t have to be miserable, because Hyojong likes you! He told me. Like, on multiple occasions.”

“Me too,” Yuto chimes in.

“And me,” says Shinwon.

“Same here,” adds Jinho, and then Wooseok, and then Hyunggu, and Hwitaek is overwhelmed, but he can’t really dwell on that right now, because they’re _really_ stretching the limits of when Hyojong will wander back here, carrying the parts of his equipment that are portable and looking sweaty and dirty and soft and perfect and ready to go home for the night.

Jesus. Maybe _Hwitaek_ could be the one to take him home.

He stops considering all the implications of that when sweat actively starts rolling down his forehead.

“Okay,” Hwitaek says finally. “Okay, I’ll...I guess I’ll try. I’ll try, guys. But, not tonight, all right? It’s like three in the morning and everyone’s tired and let’s just go home and maybe I’ll try tomorrow.” Hwitaek’s not entirely sure he’s telling the truth, that he won’t just go home and convince himself it’s a stupid fantasy and useless to try, but the words seem to be enough to get everyone off their chairs and heading for the door, so he’ll take it.

Jinho’s almost there when he turns to look at Hwitaek, bringing up the rear of their little group, and says, “You might want to check on Hyojong. I still hear music going out there.”

Hwitaek stops and listens, and Jinho’s right, except no one else seems concerned. They all seem completely oblivious, continuing on their way out the door, and Hwitaek is about to ask, but Jinho cuts him off with a wink and a murmur. “Go get him, tiger.”

_Of course. A fucking set-up._

Hwitaek sighs and waves a hand in Jinho’s general direction, dismissing him from his duties as interfriendtion host, and Jinho steps out the door as Hwitaek turns and begins weaving his way down the dark hallways of Lucky’s and back to the main ballroom.

The music gets a little louder as he gets closer, but Hyojong’s got it down to a respectable volume. One they can talk over.

When he finally makes it to the doorway, Hyojong is standing in the middle of the dance floor. He’s not dancing. He’s just waiting, gazing up at the way the still spinning disco ball makes patterns and shadows dance across the room. There are still a few stray bubbles floating out from the bubble machine in the corner. Hwitaek takes a deep breath, and tiptoes his way across the floor.

He’s not stealthy enough for Hyojong not to hear his footsteps, and when he gets halfway there, Hyojong turns to look at him over his shoulder, smiling a little. Blushing, even.

Hwitaek is standing in front of him when he asks, “What are you still doing here?”, even though they both know.

Hyojong bites his lip. “I was waiting for you,” he says softly. Hwitaek is melting.

“Waiting for me to what?” he replies, just as soft, and Hyojong’s eyes meet his again.

“Waiting for you to ask me to dance.”

Hwitaek wants to believe that response is something that Hyojong agonized over, that he spent sleepless nights planning out so he could execute it perfectly, at the perfect time, and with the perfect amount of sweet seduction in his voice and in his eyes. He knows it isn’t true. It would have been true for Hwitaek. But Hyojong is something different. This is just how he _is._

Perfect.

Hwitaek tries to laugh, through the layers of nervousness clogging his throat. He thinks he succeeds.

“I don’t know how to dance,” he answers. He’s a worse dancer than Hongseok and Shinwon put together. He’s probably a worse dancer than even Jinho, but Jinho outright refuses to try, so he’ll never know.

Hyojong smiles. “It’s okay. I’ll lead. We’ll figure it out.”

There have been a few times in Hwitaek’s life when he’s felt absolutely smashed over the head with a Life Lesson Full of Irony, but this exact moment, the one where Hyojong takes a deep breath and a step closer and turns his face up to Hwitaek’s and lets his hands rest on Hwitaek’s hips, may be the biggest, most comically painful Life Lesson Hwitaek’s been hit with yet.

He’s been missing out on so much.

On this.

On Hyojong.

He tries to breathe normally, instead of doing the weird, shuddery thing he can feel happening in his ribcage. Hyojong is stepping even closer, impossibly close. Too close for dancing. Hwitaek is starting to get the feeling that “dancing” may have been a metaphor.

He thinks he knows for what. It’s just too good to be true.

He thinks he’s probably dreaming, when Hyojong’s lips brush his gently and carefully. Like he’s not sure if he’s allowed to. Hwitaek wants him to know that he’s very much allowed to, that it would be great if he would allow himself on a regular basis, so he throws out all his doubts for one temporary second, just enough to kiss Hyojong back and kiss him good. Kiss him until he’s breathless.

Hwitaek moves away after a while to catch his breath, and let Hyojong do the same. Hyojong looks a little more dazed than he did before, cheeks a little pinker, and Hwitaek congratulates himself silently. He’s still got it. He smiles at Hyojong, brushing his thumb over Hyojong’s bottom lip. Grateful that he remembers how to do all of this.

Finally, Hwitaek manages some words. “That seemed like a bit more than dancing,” he whispers, and Hyojong grins.

“Nah. It’s all a different kind of dance, Hui. You just gotta find the right music.”


End file.
